


Untold Things

by Saraste



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Day 2 : fire OR water, Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares, Nwalin Week, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sack of Erebor, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 12:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10990983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Dwalin dreams of fire. Nori has secrets.





	Untold Things

Dwalin remembers the old world burning, remembers the terror of losing his home, their Mountain, so many innocent lives…

 

He has no fond memories of fire, after that.

 

The fall of Erebor, the coming of the great wyrm snakes into his dreams, poisoning them into nightmares all through the wandering years and all the way into Azanulbizar.

 

After Azanulbizar he knows the stench of burning flesh, tastes nothing but for months on end after shuddering awake from nightmares, hands on his axes, blood pounding in his ears, the past blending into present, casting reality into doubt.

 

There are reasons Dwalin hasn’t got a lover, for no dwarf deserves to fear their bedmate. His life belongs to his King, to his kin, and it is enough to defend them, Dwalin can’t ask for more.

 

In time, life has it’s way, proximity is too much and there’s nothing else but to shut that infuriating mouth with a kiss and hold onto russet hair as a lithe body presses against his own, eager and inviting.

 

Dwalin has never kissed anyone like that.

 

But Nori keeps to his own counsel and has things he’ll not do, always makes Dwalin not want to wait, that it takes more time than it ought to have for Dwalin to realize he’s never seen nor touched Nori’s back, despite all he’s seen, touched.

 

When he asks, once, supine in bed with Nori perched atop him, Nori gets up and off his lap, tunic falling down to cover his flagging arousal, eyes darting away from Dwalin, hands fumbling for his clothes, before Dwalin can do anything to stall him. ‘Can’t you just be content?’ Nori asks, holding onto his discarded clothing.

 

Dwalin should be, and Nori’s entitled to his secrets, as Nori’s pretty enough with his hair open and wild, his eyes intent on Dwalin as he moves, as he gives as much of himself as he’s willing, if not ever all, Dwalin’s hands always end up on Nori’s hips, never on top or under his tunic, not in the back, anyway.

 

Dwalin shouldn’t want all, for is he also not giving all to Nori, having left part of himself behind in Erebor… in Azanulbizar?

 

‘It is, Nori.’

 

But his words aren’t enough.

 

Nori’s shoving his feet into his boots, movements clipped. ‘I’ll go now, if it’s all the same to you, well, even if it’s not.’ He doesn’t look at Dwalin, doesn’t give him any indication if this has been too much, if he’ll ever come back. If he won’t.

 

Dwalin doesn’t stop him, doesn’t feel like he has the right, just lies where Nori left him and presses his hands to his face, curing his stupidity.

 

That night he dreams of fire and smoke and ashes, wakes with bile in his throat and the smell of burning flesh in his nose. HIs hands shake for a long time, knuckles white as he clings to his beloved twin axes, sat bolt upright in his bed, trying to get his pounding heart to steady.

 

He sleeps no more that  night.

 

*

 

Dwalin doesn’t see Nori for a long time after that, buries himself in his duties, the life he had before, caring only for duty and love for kith and kin, and it should be enough, was enough before.

 

And it might have been, had Dwalin not made Nori into kin in his most fond thoughts, even when there are no braids to solidify that relationship, to mark it, declare it. To most others, the Captain of the Royal Guard, the King’s very own cousin, has always led a solitary existence and has no room for bedmates and cared only for family and Dwalin lets them have their thoughts.

 

He doesn’t seek out Nori, leaves him to his secrets, whatever they are, and to live his life, even if it will be separate from Dwalin, if it’s what he wants now, now that Dwalin couldn’t leave well enough alone.

 

And then, one night when Dwalin comes home, Nori is sitting on his bed, calmly running a comb through his unbraided hair, damp from a bath, cross legged and clad in nothing but one of Dwalin’s tunics. 

 

The sight makes Dwalin ache. And it gives him hope, as Nori’s there to stay, if he’s made use of Dwalin’s facilities, has gotten comfortable. Yet there’s a tension to Nori, for all that he seems relaxed. Although Nori has always been like that, seemingly open yet secretive and private over some things which Dwalin cannot understand.  _ Can’t, but wants to _ .

 

Dwalin doesn’t say anything while he puts away his things, carefully, strategically placing his axes a distance from the bed next to the door. Not that he expects anything, of course, even if  _ that _ is always easy, tumbling with Nori, words are where they fall short.

 

‘Come here,’ Nori finally says, setting aside his comb and patting the bed beside him when Dwalin hesitates in the doorway.

 

Dwalin goes, sits beside Nori and falls into a kiss, willing and eager, his life slotting back into place as Nori climbs into his lap, fitting there perfect as perfect can be. 

 

‘Touch me,’ Nori says, softly, into the scant breathy space between their lips before they kiss again, Dwalin’s hands fall into familiar, safe places, and Nori makes a noise into the kiss, takes hold of Dwalin’s hand and ---

 

Dwalin’s hand slips under the tunic, up Nori’s back and…

 

He breaks the kiss, his big hand splayed over the scarred skin of Nori’s back, the reason for all those times Nori shifted away, distracted him, left him. ‘Nori…’

 

Russet hair has fallen over Nori’s eyes, that he’s again perched atop Dwalin’s lap, like last time, does not escape Dwalin’s notice, but he did not sit so still then, yet nor does he tremble with suppressed emotion. ‘I’m a terribly vain creature, you know,’ comes the admission.

 

‘As if I would care for these,’ Dwalin tells him, even if his big hand cannot find the edges to what must be big scars, and he has to ask, ‘where?..’

 

Nori meets his eyes, ‘Erebor. We almost lost Ori, would have, had I not…’

 

Dwalin understands. Even if he can’t quite believe that Nori carries the mark of the fall of Erebor with him everywhere he goes, and all because of strong and abiding love for family. He presses his forehead to Nori’s, more intimate than anything, and softly whispers what he has wanted to say for a long time yet hasn’t dared. ‘Stay the night?’

 

Nori smiles, moves to kiss Dwalin. ‘I just might.’

 

That night, Dwalin doesn’t dream of fire.

 


End file.
